Master and Servant
by Jadwiga
Summary: Tom Riddle Lucius Malfoy. Telling of a master and servant and how Lucius was meant to follow the Dark Lord, because of his father. Slash. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

Disclamier: All the characters, creatures etc in the Harry Potter universe belong to J.K.Rowling. All original characters, plot etc belong to me – especially Tecwyn Malfoy so hands off him! No money is being made.

Warnings: Angst and hints of sex/Dark Magic. Slash. Spoliers for all books to be safe.

Summary: Tom Riddle/Lucius Malfoy. Telling of a master and servant and how Lucius was meant to follow the Dark Lord, because of his father. Anything else is your choice including as to when it is set. Any rating._ Submitted by Tubs._

A/N: For the Americans: pants means underwear. Thoughts are enclosed and look like so: '_and'_ Not beta read so all mistakes are my own. Written for the SlytherinvsGryffindor yahoo group Fest.

Prologue

**_1954 – The Spring Equinox _**

****

Tecwyn Malfoy held up his baby son who cried his first tears in this world. The cold light of the stars filtered into the birthing room illuminating the surroundings in a ghostly white light. Walking over to the partially covered windows Tecwyn waved his hand causing the windows to spring open. Stepping out onto the balcony he surveyed the dying night world. Soon the sun would rise bringing the new day. Holding up the babe in his hands, swaddling cloth trailing in the slight breeze, he closed his eyes willing that circumstances were otherwise, but it was not so. He was still there.

_'Ah, my son, what a price I must pay for sparing your mother's life, but I had to – I could not stand by and watch her die. I have to hand my son over to a demon, yet is that not the price when one deals with the Devil? You shall be happy with him however son, I shall ensure this by making you love him from the very first. Come child, your soul mate awaits and we have much work to undergo ere you are ready to be his servant and consort.'_

Cradling the newly born Malfoy heir to his chest Tecwyn Malfoy re-entered the birthing room as the sun rose on the beautiful spring morning – hope had come, but for who?

_1966 – 1st September, King's Cross _

"_**Remember Lucius that in whichever House you are in, to gather a elite following who will obey your word and be loyal only to you. On top of this ensure that the rest of the House fears you and your words so that they do not openly plan against you. Try to make some love you – for they will be your spies protecting you against those who may plot against you and mean you ill. When older obtain the trust and love of your Head of House, you shall understand how when you are older. Remember my words son, it shall stand thee in good stead."** _Tecwyn Malfoy

Lucius Malfoy relaxed against the plush headrest of the seat observing closely his fellow passengers. All of them pure-bloods naturally. Opposite him was one Walden Mcnair already large for his age. Dark hair cropped to just above his ears gave him a slightly menacing quality as did his cold, hard face, graven as if it was a stone statue. Cold eyes gleamed at him, assessing Lucius with not as nearly as much subtlety as Lucius' own reconnaissance. Deciding that Walden would make a useful ally Lucius proceeded to evaluate the rest of the occupants.

His gaze settled on a girl sitting primly in her seat who met his measuring/calculating stare with a determined look. Thick, ebony hair tumbled to her shoulders framing a delicate face, set with pale blue eyes fenced by dark eyelashes. A regal air surrounded the girl, flowing off her in waves. She was beautiful.

'_No doubt,'_ thought Lucius, _'she will one day be a breathtaking and stunning woman.'_ This promising beauty was of a high status, descended from an old pure-blood family – though not as old as the Malfoy's – the Blacks. The girl was one Bellatrix Black.

The last two occupants were also from pure-blood families but not quite as old as the Malfoy's. Goyle and Crabbe, hulking 'beasts' eager to hurt those smaller than them, Muggle lovers or those of less blood status. They were already enamoured of Lucius' beauty, staring unabashedly at his white blond hair, left free and wild to reach the young boy's shoulders. Lucius knew that to secure them firmly under his spell he would have to work, though by the looks of things it would not take too much effort. A dazzling smile later and they were completely his. Life looked good.

"I have a proposition."

_**1973 – June **_

****

The summer of 1973 was hot. Sweat ran down tired faces glad for a reprieve from exams and hard work. School was almost finished – tomorrow would be the last day before the train would ease into the station ready to carry the children home to their loving families. The threat of the new powerful Dark Wizard hung in the air, but was forgotten in the atmosphere of exhaustion. Yet not all forgot this new brooding menace.

An eighteen-year-old Lucius Malfoy sauntered into the office of his Head of House with every intention of getting what he desired. Smiling briefly Lucius flung himself into the role of 'unknowing' seducer.

"Lucius! What are you doing here?" A bespectacled man peered up at Lucius past the brown hair that obscured his vision.

Allowing a distressed expression to settle the blond replied, "Oh, Professor Goodheart I am in trouble and you are the only one that can possibly help me."

Immediately concerned over his favourite student the Head of Slytherin House hastily beckoned for Lucius to sit. The blond did so, just not where he had expected.

"Er, Lucius…"

"Yes?" Lucius peered innocently up at him through long eyelashes. Professor Goodheart swallowed hard. "I did not mean for you to sit on my lap."

"Oh. Am I offending you?"

"N..no, but it is not proper." Lucius allowed tears to rise.

"Y..yo..you mean that you do not wish to help me? Please sir, you are the only person I can go to, don't abandon me!"

Releasing a theatrical sob Lucius was pleased to observe the result. Professor Goodheart was visibly crumbling.

"Abandon you child? Never! Of course if someone does come in I shall simply inform them that you needed comfort, hence your sitting in my lap and my hugging you. Now tell me Mr. Malfoy, what is bothering you that only I can solve?"

Lucius felt amused. His plan was falling into place and as for interruptions? Not likely with Walden Mcnair, Crabbe and Goyle guarding the passageway, but for now he must proceed with the seduction.

" Raphael…may I call you Raphael?"

Receiving the full blare of Lucius' innocent smile, wide hopeful grey eyes and delicate tongue flickering past red lips Professor Goodheart's mouth went dry.

"You have almost finished school so why not?"

"Raphael," his name fell off moist lips with a sultry emphasis. He prayed feverishly for his body to not react to such provocation. "Tonight is a meeting with You Know Who present, which naturally all loyal and conscientious pure-bloods will wish to attend. However," lowering his voice and leaning closer so his breath ghosted over his teacher's left cheek, "I and some others have the pesky problem of being contained within these walls. We would be ever so grateful if you could alleviate this matter."

"But…" Seeing doubt Lucius stepped up the game. He whispered into a sensitive ear, lips brushing, tongue darting.

"I would be extremely grateful and eager to please." Sweat beaded the older man's forehead at such an open invitation.

"You. Are. Still. A. Child and my student," he gasped struggling for control. Soft laughter met this pained restraint.

"I am eighteen and technically I have finished my NEWTs and so am no longer your student. Do not tell me that you are not interested. The gift in your trousers informs me otherwise."

A small hand squeezed the prominent bugle, rubbing against it, a small moan of his own accompanying the frustrated whimper of his Head of House.

"My, my, that is one impressive package that you are carrying in your pants. Care to share?"

Completely undone Goodheart let out a long moan hissing, "I'll help, but I want my reward now."

Smiling in triumph and lust Lucius asked, "Where?"

"You. Bedroom. Now."

"Hmm, controlling. Nice."

With a growl Lucius was swept up into strong arms, a forceful kiss deposited leaving him breathless. As calloused hands pulled down silk leggings while a mouth left a burning trail of kisses and bites Lucius wondered dazedly why he had left it so long before seducing his teacher.

**A/N2: Please tell me what you think! **


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: All the characters, creatures etc in the Harry Potter universe belong to J. K. Rowling. All original characters, plot etc belong to me – especially Tecwyn Malfoy, so hands off him! No money is being made.

Warning: Perhaps some OOCness from Lucius? Depends on your point of view.

A/N: Thoughts/conscience look like so: _'and'_. Not beta read so all mistakes are my own.

Thank you for your review Sahrious!

0-0-0-0

Chapter One

_**1973 – June, Midnight, Death Eater Meeting **_

Lucius peered up at the very tall figure striding about on the stage heart thumping wildly. His words set a fire in his blood for he was _right._ Why should pure-bloods come second – or even third – to Muggle-borns and half-bloods? After all, wasn't the threat from these mixed breeds and their Muggle parents and not from honest and true blood? Trembling with excitement Lucius leaned over to Mcnair voice almost shaking with the effects of the spell he was fast becoming entangled in. Yet excitement was not the only reason his voice resounded, making him sound drugged, desire also soared through his system.

Eyes catching for a single moment the pitch black of the Dark Lord Lucius felt his heart constrict and knew he was lost. In that single instant that their eyes met and held Lucius fell in love. As the tempo reached its peak Lucius forsook reason forever, eagerly drawing Macnair after him to sign up as a Death Eater.

His father had done his work well.

_**Two Months Later – Malfoy Manor, Initiation into the Circle** _

Lucius Malfoy surveyed the mingling crowd eager to catch a glimpse of his soon-to-be-Master. Soon he would be a Death Eater and his love's most faithful follower. He ignored the presence of Walden by his side his mind drifting to wonderful dreams of red satin sheets, flushed skin pressed upon them, and moans mixing in the heavy musk scented air.

Strong commanding hands stroking a blazing trail over his porcelain flesh, his legs wrapped around a thrusting man – his Master claiming him in every meaning of the word. A tight hot ball of need formed in the pit of his stomach forcing Lucius to return to the reality of the room before he made a spectacle of himself.

Tecwyn watched his son from the shadows, anxiety clenching his belly in a vice grip. How could he do this to his son? Why had he done this? _'To save your wife,'_ came the treacherous voice that tormented his sleeping and waking moments. Closing his eyes Tecwyn Malfoy wished he had not sold his son to the Devil's minion on Earth, but at the time, grief over the supposed loss of his wife drove reason out of his head.

Since when did a Malfoy serve anyone but himself or herself? But it was too late now to try and save his son, he had seen to that. All that could be done was to ensure his son's happiness under this cruel man obsessed with immortality. Not the immortality of legend but the immortality of body and mind. Insanity itself! Death was not to be cheated and was the order of things upon Earth, to attempt to trick it led only to madness and loss of self … loss of the soul. There was a stirring. _He _had arrived.

0-0-0-0

Tecwyn Malfoy stepped out onto the balcony that oversaw the back garden. A rustle of clothing alerted him to the presence of others on the neighbouring balcony. Hastily he moved into the deeper shadows so that he would not be seen. He quietly observed the play unfolding in front of his eyes.

His son lent against the railing, silver hair glowing in the starlight. The moon hanging in the heavens added to the ethereal image that the young man cast. He seemed to be lost in thought. A darker figure joined his son causing his boy to turn in surprise. Without a sound the taller form strode to Lucius drawing him into his arms, dark eyes boring into his son's soul. Demon and fallen Angel they appeared. Light and dark. Tempter and tempted. The Dark Lord obviously liked what he saw for he ran a long pale finger down the side of his son's face ere brushing strong lips over pliant eager ones. Smirking in delight his voice held triumph.

"Mine, body _and _spirit."

Silent in his heartache Tecwyn withdrew. It wouldn't be long now.

0-0-0-0

"We gather to initiate another into our family," came the cold booming voice of Voldemort. "Attend."

Tecwyn shifted, eyes never leaving his son's kneeling form enclosed in a tight, small circle of Death Eaters. Voldemort had deemed that his son should not have a full crowd to witness his birth into new life, only his most trusted and, since Tecwyn had begged, Lucius' father. Heart constricted with worry he wondered exactly what the Dark Lord would require as proof of his son's loyalty. However, while he worried he knew, (with not a little amount of pride), that his son would be up to the task – he was after all a Malfoy.

Voldemort moved forward to stand before the submissive figure.

"Hold out your left arm with the sleeve drawn back."

Lucius did so, calm eyes upon his soon-to-be Lord, breath barely escaping his mouth. Only a sliver of excitement showed in his grey orbs. Smiling ever so slightly at his eager recruit Voldemort grasped the arm in a hold as strong as steel. Pressing the tip of his wand to the porcelain flesh he murmured a series of words. A hot blinding flash later Lucius let out a short scream as the smell of smoking flesh filled the room. Blood driped. Tecwyn started forward to only be halted by a pair of arms. Raising the branded limb in the air Voldemort let out a cry.

"Behold our new family member! Welcome him!"

Lowering the arm he allowed a feral smile to grace his face. The congratulations were short. The Dark Lord signalled the end to the welcoming committee.

"Leave. Do what you will."

Passion burned hotly in his piercing dark eyes as he gazed at Lucius.

"And we? We have a prior appointment."

Stroking Lucius' face he pulled him to his feet.

"I have better ideas as to what to do with this silken skin than mere stroking. Time for me to fully claim you my love."

Lucius whimpered.

0-0-0-0

_**1978, Five years later, Christmas Eve **_

Firm lips clashed, each duelling for dominance, even though the victor by now was preordained. Sampling the fine nectar within Thomas Riddle withdrew, smirking in victory as he observed his lover's state. His hot breath wafted over Lucius' flushed skin causing the younger man to shiver in anticipation. His fine long legs spread submissively on the rumpled bed sheets made Thomas hiss in delight. Seeing the absolute ardour and enamoured expression in sliver eyes he made his final decision. Leaning over the sprawled form he spoke in low tones, moist lips tickling the sensitive skin of the right ear.

"Can you yet comprehend after all these years what secrets I can tell you?"

The husky tones forced Lucius to close his eyes. Swallowing hard he opened them to lock the grey pools on the burning green above. Desire warred within him – the desire to be trusted with his Lord's most intimate secrets, and the desire for knowedlge and more power. Therefore the truth was best.

"No, but I still wish to try." A smile of satisfaction met this whispered confession.

"You are mine?"

"I can never belong to anyone else – I love you."

"Love is a weakness to be exploited, but I do not hold it against you my dragon. What I tell you now must not be repeated to another living soul, or – love or not – I must kill you. Something which I rather not have to do – understand?"

A gasp. "Yes."

"Then listen carefully my little dragon…."

**- Lucius' Diary -**

_**24/12/1978**_

_I know what my father and grandfather did not know, that the Heir of Salazar Slytherin, is nothing more than a half-blood, one of those who he considers beneath pure-bloods. He is **nothing** compared to my blood status, purest of pure; no taint for centuries uncounted, if one listens, no adheres, to my teachings. Yet I serve power not blood._

_For if I served blood status would I not simply follow Albus Dumbledore? But what does he know of power? No, my Master and Lord is Thomas Riddle, hailed by many names: Voldemort (by few), Master (by many), He Who Must Not Be Named (by still many more) and so on. I fear and love him; I am lost to darkness' embrace without hope, even should I wish for 'redemption'. LM _

0-0-0-0

**_1981, Halloween, 1500 hours _**

Voldemort leant over the oak table, upon which a map had been stretched across the polished wooden surface. A wavering finger pointed out his destination. Fear hung in the air, smelling of the most expensive incense. Licking his lips to catch the tangy taste while his nostrils twitched to capture the heady aroma the Dark Lord grinned cruelly. _'Soon James Potter, you and your pesky wife will no longer bother me and your son will never be given the opportunity to destroy me.'_

Turning to his second in command he ordered him to keep an eye on Lucius while he was gone. In the bedroom he kissed the sleeping form before Apparating to Malfoy Manor to conceal some of his possessions in the attic. As he left, cloak billowing out behind him in the draft, he did not notice an item falling behind one of the chests.

It was a faded black diary with gold edging. There was only one symbol on the cover.

_1942_


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: All the characters, creatures etc in the Harry Potter universe belong to J. K. Rowling. All original characters, plot etc belong to me. No money is being made.

A/N: Thoughts/conscience look like so: _'and'_. Not beta read so all mistakes are my own.

0-0-0-0

Chapter Two

**_2nd November 1981_**

_**For convention's sake I had to marry, not because I wished or desired it. I only desired for, and wished for, my Lord's love. I settled for his passion, lust and ownership of myself. Love is a commodity my Dark Lord could not entertain; yet surely I was more to him than simply his pet? Now he is gone. What shall I do? LM **_

The trials of the followers of the Dark Lord began. Azkaban was filled with the cries, shrieks and howls of those condemned. Tears ran down many cheeks, even those of the bravest or most reserved in speech and emotion.

Aurors had a field time, throwing enemies they had long hunted behind bars, and many Aurors ignored fair hearings in a lust for revenge. One by one the supporters of He Who Must Not Be Named were sentenced to life within the grim confines of Azkaban, to be tortured by their guards – the Dementors. Day after day, hour after hour, overflowing with every cruel cold memory, stripping away hope until nothing but madness, grief and despair remained. Very few managed to retain any semblance of sanity to be able to serve their Lord when he rose again.

Yet, for every single ally imprisoned many more escaped, darting through the searching nets of their fishers and would be judges. Lucius Malfoy was one of these few, faking being under the Imperious Curse to slip justice. Voldemort's most ardent supporter now lived in freedom, but Lucius did nothing. Fear held him in a vice grip: the terror of the Dementors of Azkban, the veiled threat against his family (and he did love his son if not his wife), and hopelessness in the face of the complete disappearance of his beloved Master.

In this state of constant dread he lived. But gradually his arrogance grew as the realisation that the Aurors were powerless, and that most peoples' memories were forgetful registered.

Lucius slowly re-built his image and standing, easily easing into people's confidence, laying low until the ripe moment. He waited for a sign that his Master was near and strong enough to ascend to power once more.

Meanwhile, Voldemort's other trusted and fanatical Death Eaters languished in Azkaban, for Lucius could do little for them without the Aurors interfering and dropping hints about his family. Even if he helped them to escape how could they resist capture lacking the protection, as they did, of a mighty leader?

In such a manner the years passed with little reprieve – Lucius heart hurt more as the time grew.

_**1st January 1990**_

_**I learnt to love my wife and son, but it is nothing for the love I still hold for my Master and Lord. Come back to me my love. Forgive me for I am weak and undeserving of your trust. I am not strong enough, nor brave enough, to actively seek your return, especially with a wife and child to look after. Yes, you see through me my Lord. It is the Dementors I dread. I know what they are capable of – I have seen them at work. Do not judge me harshly for my weak flesh and spirit. LM**_

0-0-0-0

_> 31st December 1991 >_

"Where are you going dear?" Narcissa Malfoy called after her husband's retreating back.

"To clear out the attic – it has been abandoned for far too long. No one has been up there since…." Lucius trailed off as the past unfolded in front of his eyes.

Narcissa sighed. The past was something her husband was reticent about, especially when it concerned the Dark Lord. Narcissa Malfoy was not a stupid woman. She was perfectly aware that her husband loved her not – he simply tolerated her for the necessity of begetting an heir, which was achieved and therefore no more relations were needed, or indeed expected.

Lucius' Master held her husband's heart and no one could claim it, or dared to if they had any sense whatsoever. However, her reasons for entering this loveless marriage were ridiculously simple.

Firstly, an alliance with the strongest of the pure-blooded families guaranteed good standing in the community. Secondly, there was no expectation in this marriage for anything more than the mere intimation needed for the pretence of a happy union. Thirdly, once an heir was born, she was free to pursue whom she wanted without interference, as long as she was discreet. Fourthly, she would have a child she could love and be ensured of its comfort, safety and the love of his father. Fifthly, (and lastly), excellent financial means were provided. What more could a woman want or desire?

At least their son did not know of his father's preference or who was the focus of said preference, it would tarnish the boy's ideals. And Narcissa loved her son too much to tear down Lucius from the pedestal their son set him upon.

'_However, will the Master be forgiving of Lucius' lack of action in uncovering his whereabouts and helping him to re-seize power? I fear that judgement day and pray it never comes. At best my son gets to see his father become a whore again – a consort – to a demon. What honour or pride is there in that? The Malfoys may serve a Master, but the Blacks damn will NOT bow down to another, no matter my sister's foolishness, and I am too mad to even think about her misplaced loyalty.' _

Surfacing from her dark musings Narcissa watched as her husband shrugged off his own personal demons.

"It has to be done," he stated curtly. "Haven't you got anything to do?"

"Spend time with our son darling," she knew the endearment would irritate Lucius.

"Draco doesn't need my personal attention twenty four hours a day like some it appears. Here," coins landed on the polished table surface, "take Draco somewhere and enjoy yourselves. Do not return until late." She had succeeded in baiting him.

Nodding, Narcissa went to collect her son, leaving her husband to tackle the attic by himself.

0-0-0-0

Lucius sweated as he lifted a chest, placing it nearer the attic entrance. It was heavy, thankless work, but far too delicate material potentially lurked in these locked away prisons for house- elves to be permitted to handle the task. Dobby especially would cause trouble. _'Damn elf. Always inciting trouble.'_

The wavering candlelight caused something to twinkle. Puzzled, Lucius returned to the spot where the chest had rested, crouching down to see what had caught the light. It was a faded black book with gold stitching that sparkled. Picking the object up Lucius blew the layer of dust that had accumulated on it, peering curiously at the little treasure he had discovered.

Wondering what it contained, for Lucius could not remember either his grandfather or father mentioning such a book, he turned the cover to discover an empty page. Increasingly confused Lucius flicked through the pages, each of them the same – white pages never filled. Perplexed the blond hastened back to the chest hoping for a clue.

'_Why should anyone buy a diary – a Muggle one at that – and never fill it out? It is old. 1942. But by grandfather would certainly write in his diary and most assuredly not buy a Muggle one. All the more mysterious because how did a Muggle item end up in a Malfoy attic? Yet the diary looks familiar. Why? Where have I seen this before? Hmmm, this chest holds very interesting items, none of which ever belonged to any Malfoy. What the hell is going on? There are initials on the back.'_

Much later…

_**31st December 1991 – Midnight**_

_**At last I have the peace and time to think about my finds. Also I can be assured of complete security as I write – free from interference from 'allies' and enemies. I have discovered my Lord's diary! He does still hold some trust in me! But why are the pages empty? What happened in 1942 that caused my Lord to abandon his diary? LM **_

0-0-0-0

Lucius drifted into sleep, remembering in his dreams…

_The Serpent Lord leant over him imprinting his 'mate's' scent, nostrils flaring. Eyes like slits bore into him cataloguing his body for future reference. In the peculiar language of the Serpents Thomas Riddle seduced Lucius until he fell into a deep sleep. An intermediate time passed before he rose from a black pit of nothing to a light doze of awareness. His Lord was speaking, unaware of his sudden change in consciousness._

"_About thirty nine years ago I opened the Chamber of Secrets releasing the terror within. At the last I failed and had to re-close the Chamber lest I was discovered. Dumbledore was too inquisitive for his own good. However, I did have a backup plan. The events of the year were catalogued in my diary and I ensured my continued life and legacy by preserving my sixteen-year-old self among the pages. _

"_Thus, whenever I have need the diary shall revive me. The heir of Salazar Slytherin is not so easily overthrown or destroyed. I shall show you the secrets of its pages. Then if there is a time, which warrants its use, you shall show Lucius how to use the book. Do you understand my most trusted servant?"_

"_Yes my Lord." After a moments hazy thought recognition flashed. His lover was speaking to his second in command._

"_Then listen carefully for the secrets are many. I can do more with the diary than simply show the past…"_

_Lucius struggled to remain awake but the soothing arms of sleep were too powerful to ignore and he slipped back into oblivion, the voices fading gradually to nothing._

0-0-0-0

Lucius sat behind the oak desk. In front of him lay his Lord's diary open on a random page. An ink well stood to the right of the book, a slender quill residing next to it, beckoning someone to hold it in his or her fingers.

Quietly and slowly Lucius stretched out his hand to grasp the pen, dipping the nib gently into the motionless sea-blue depths. Tapping the writing instrument against the side Lucius brought the pen to bear on the pristine white page.

After that dream memories had gradually returned, flowing into his conscious living memory. Conservations with Thomas' second in command, conservations that at the time had made little sense – especially to a man who breathed for his Lord's pleasure – had filled his thoughts.

Eventually some of the exasperated words had penetrated the busy mind of his Lord's Consort when at last a fed up, the Lieutenant had grabbed the thin shoulders of the infuriating blond, ensuring Lucius' complete attention. Time had buried these memories of instructions under grief and utter loneliness. Not to mention boredom. But now, now he had an opportunity to bring his Master back! Lucius could barely remember the last time he had felt so much energy surging through his system.

Now in his study, with the door locked, the former consort of the Dark Lord put quill to paper and wrote his name: _Lucius Malfoy._

A minute ticked by and then…

**Hello. My name is Thomas Riddle. What do you want?**

Lucius breath grew heavy with excitement.

_To free you from your prison my love._

**My love? Perhaps you should visit my world first ere we discuss how I can be freed.**

_Gladly my Lord. But how can I enter your world? The past is only shown is it not?_

**Touch the page and I shall show you Lucius.**

Breathless, Lucius caressed the ivory page engraved with their conservation as the ink sank into the bottomless depths of the magical world. Immediately his perception went crazy. The air swirled, compressing around him, sucking him down the spinning funnel of time and place until…with a bump Lucius landed on a cold surface. Wet stone lay underneath his sprawled body.

Levering himself to his feet Lucius stared around the chamber he found himself in. The forbidding statue at the far end caused his blood to freeze momentarily.

'_The Chamber of Secrets! But where is my Lord?'_

Out of the gloom stepped a figure cloaked in darkness, black eyes glowing eerily in the half-light of the vast hall. Lucius swallowed hard as he gazed upon the man he loved so very much. The boy chose to ignore him for the present, instead stalking up to the statue of Salazar Slytherin. A string of harsh syllables issued from his mouth.

A groan of stone upon stone accompanied the event of a giant form slithering out from the yawing maw, undulatating upon the ground, passing within a hair's breath of Lucius. Shivering, he couldn't help but flinch at the closeness of the vile creature that his Lord and Master controlled.

A reassuring voice broke in upon his silent reverie of horror.

"He will not harm you. He does as I order for I am the heir of Salazar Slytherin."

Footsteps rang and a hand gestured for him to raise his head. Obsidian captured grey, boring into them, stripping away all mental barriers, leaving the mind defenceless. A pleased smile stole across the youthful features.

"I remember you my dragon. So full of fire you used to be, yet now that fire is sorely banked. What has happened to my once fierce little dragon?"

Lucius found it hard to think and said the first thing that flashed into his numb brain.

"Where is the Basilisk going?" He instantly cringed at the stupid question. Nonetheless, an amused laugh met his inane query.

"To hunt Mudbloods. But you did not answer my question my slippery friend."

"The years have been long and arduous my Lord. Family weighs heavily upon me and there is no comfort to be had."

Thomas Riddle cocked his head in sympathy and unconcealed delight.

"That is now at an end my Lucius. And I am greatly pleased that you have remained loyal to me, inviting no other to your bed."

"No man can compare to you my Lord."

A cold predatory smile flashed. Jealously gleamed for an instant in inky pools. "I should hope so Lucius, for if you had, or do, I would have to kill him. The same applies to your wife. You have not shared her bed since the conception of Draco have you Lucius?"

"No."

"Excellent."

The boy turned to leave.

"Master!" called out Lucius desperately.

"Yes?"

"Why do you not touch me?"

A sad expression graced the handsome features before the dark wizard responded.

"Because it is not possible here Lucius. Maybe soon. For now our time has run out and you must depart. Return at a later date Lucius."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Do not sound so despondent my Lucius. I shall be back soon. Until then remain faithful because I do not deal kindly with those that betray me."

"Yes my Lord."

A flick of a hand and suddenly the world tilted again throwing Lucius back into the real world. Shaken, Lucius stayed motionless, reviewing all that had transpired in shock until his son's voice broke his thoughts, dragging him mercilessly into the here and now.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Visitors."

The blond aristocrat sighed, calling back to his son to entertain their guests untill he arrived. He glanced at the leather bound diary as he left. He would try again soon.

Over the oncoming months Lucius spent almost all of his free time studying the diary, pouring more and more of his life-force into the blank pages and grim prison of his Master and lover.

0-0-0-0

**Next Chapter: TR/LM action and a cameo by Harry Potter.**


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: All the characters, creatures etc in the Harry Potter universe belong to J. K. Rowling. All original characters, plot etc belong to me. No money is being made.

Warnings: Angst, **SEX** and Dark Magic. Slash. Spoliers for all books.

A/N: Thoughts/conscience look like so: _'and'._ Not beta read so all mistakes are my own.

Sorry for the long time between updates! I have been unfortunately busy. Yet within that busy timetable I managed to complete editing Master and Servant. I promise that I shall upload the last few chapters during this week!

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Chapter Three

_**> July 1992 >**_

The colours were muted here. Mainly shades of blue, purple and grey with splashes of white mingled into the peculiar canopy. Lucius blinked in confusion. '_Where am I? What is this place?'_

The room appeared to shift and the sliver haired man became aware of white sheets pressing against his skin. Raising his head a fraction he saw that he was lying, with legs open in invitation, upon a large double bed. The ivory sheets were trimmed with pillows of royal purple. There was a mere suggestion of the air changing. Lucius sat up, all senses alert.

A delicate increase of pressure caused Lucius discomfort and his alertness to mutate into the beginnings of full-blown alarm. '_What is going on?'_

Anxiety levels rising Lucius' eyes sought the room for the intruder – if, indeed, the intruder was anything he could actually see. Wait a moment! _There!_ By the window!

Air was coalescing, particles coming together to form the blurry outline of a man. Slowly the atoms compressed until he could discern details of the mysterious figure. Finally the process was complete and the man was cast in stark relief against the myriad background.

"Thomas?" whispered Lucius in shock and disbelief.

The young man – a boy really – prowled towards the bed, alighting upon the edge of the piece of furniture with a predatory smile. Observing the blond's bewilderment he simply crawled up the bed placing a finger against dry lips. Lucius' mind went into overdrive. '_He can touch me! But how? I thought Thomas said we could not touch? Where are we? Is this just a dream? Oh, merciful heavens I hope not. I couldn't stand the cruelty.'_

The feel of his Lord's warm hand upon his own cool flesh interrupted his roaming thoughts. Teasingly the hand slid up the leg, underneath the stain nightshirt to the rapidly moist heat in-between Lucius' legs. He no longer had to worry about his skin being cold to the touch. His Master's simple touch was enough to set his blood alight and his skin aflame.

Groaning Lucius tilted his head back, silver-blond hair spilling down his back and onto the rich pillows. Lips of hell fire trailed across his throat, teeth leaving their demon mark. A hot cavern descended underneath his chin, breaking skin to lap at the few drops of blood that rose to the torn surface, branding Lucius as the Dark Lord's.

Tiring of such superficial claiming Thomas Riddle set out to possess his lover in a much more intimate fashion. Running a hand down parted things while the other playfully tweaked sensitive nipples through the soft material, Riddle shoved up the offending garment urging Lucius to raise his hips to help. Murmuring "Accio" to summon a pillow the young wizard propped up the older man.

Suddenly slick fingers breached Lucius' hidden entrance, cautiously stretching and pulling out, to only push back in again. The man let out a muffled groan, writhing on the bed, demanding more. Riddle decided to accommodate his lover, shifting upwards, pressing something much larger than his fingers against the tiny, slippery opening.

Dark eyes seized grey ones and never wavering Thomas pushed home, sheathing himself fully in one move. His gasp echoed his lover's and fighting not to lose control Thomas began to move once he felt Lucius wrap his legs above his waist.

Lucius squeezed shut his eyes in ecstasy for he felt sure that if he didn't he would escape Earth's gravity to career madly into empty space. As his Master increased the tempo of his thrusts he lost all coherent thought, giving himself completely to the moment.

The stars in the heavens moved, angelic choirs singing as the two lovers undulated in concert, each playing their own tunes, but ensuring unconsciously that it complimented the other. Mouths and tongues battled, sampling the sweet nectar long withheld, teeth and lips biting and sucking at flesh long denied. Delicious cries and grunts filled the atmosphere, shrieks for mercy adding to the piece.

When climax came, it arrived on a cascading flow of blinding white-hot metal, coursing unabated through veins, ringing throughout their joined bodies with the clamour of voices in nirvana.

For an intermediate time Lucius drifted; in fact, time seemed to have ceased altogether as the two stated lovers lay entwined in tangled sheets, damp hair clinging to sweat drenched foreheads. At last time flowed back into their private world delivering sense back to Lucius. Whilst his fingers lazily stroked flushed skin he addressed his Master.

"Am I dreaming? Is that why we can touch each other? If so I never want to wake up."

"Yes, and no."

"I do not…"

"Dreams are the bridges between realties that connect the material and immaterial worlds. There are no barriers in the depths of the mind. Dead, living, in-between – what are these to our dreams? But Lucius, this cannot continue."

Lucius raised his head sharply from Thomas' chest, alarm in his features.

"Why?" he cried devastated.

Thomas sighed and tried to sound consoling instead of heartless.

"Each time you eagerly pour forth more of your spirit – your life-force – into the diary you die a little. Your energy grants me life – makes me 'real'. Eventually this leeching process would lead to your death, which I will not allow. Therefore, you must find a suitable replacement, someone who will willingly turn to my diary without a care or a sensible thought. Someone desperate. Through them I shall be re-born. Do you understand?"

"Yes, but please, please my Lord. Please do not make me have to give you up."

"It will not be for long my Lucius. Do I as I command and we shall be reunited soon."

"It shall be done."

"Do not be so glum my dragon. Soon I shall be in power once more. Soon my Consort, soon."

_**> August 1992 >**_

Lucius stared dully into the mirror for a moment, his reflection a picture of woe. Today was the day he would choose his victim, upon whom he would unleash the dreadful magic's of the diary. Shaking off his anguished stupor he reminded himself to act as a Malfoy. He didn't want anyone, least of all his son, to see his madness or an un-groomed Malfoy. He had to be the very image of reserved cool if he was to pull this scheme off. '_I will not fail you Master.'_

His son's impatient, whining voice, shattered his reverie and he hastily grabbed his cloak before leaving to meet his son in the living room, from where they would travel via Floo.

Diagon Alley was full of chattering, laughing wizards and Muggles. Parents made up the majority of the crowd, identifiable by their slightly worried faces, stressed expressions and full-blown exasperation at their child's or children's antics, and at the heaving multitudes that constituted the queues.

Lucius strolled down the bustling street on the lookout for potential targets. He grinned wickedly when his eyes landed on a familiar gaggle of redheads. He particularly noticed the youngest – the girl called Ginny – who appeared out of sorts and frantic for her parents' sole attention.

'_Ah, she seems to fit my requirements. Someone who is terribly alone among her brothers, dying to be her own proven witch and…oh what is this? Apparently the little wench is besotted with the foul Harry Potter. How quaint. She is bound to be stupid enough to not question a book that writes **back **at you.'_

Lucius watched unobtrusively for a few minutes until he felt certain, and without a doubt, that he had found the perfect sacrifice.

'_And through her I will strike a blow right to the heart of the infuriating Weasley family, and as an extension the arrogant Harry Potter. You shall pay Arthur Weasley for imprisoning my colleagues and banishing my Master with the blood of your daughter. She shall suffer as I have suffered and at my Master's pleasure. Hell hath no fury as a Consort abandoned.'_

And with a quiet evil laugh Lucius Malfoy swept into Flourish and Blotts to commence his Lord's plan.

_**> June 1993>**_

Enraged that Harry Potter had once again destroyed the means for his Master's return Lucius Malfoy stormed out of Dumbledore's office, his treacherous house-elf Dobby shambling beside him. The next thing he knew was that the infuriating boy was shoving a dirty, smelly sock into his hands. Ripping off the cover he saw the ruined diary and saw red, but forced himself to breathe.

"You'll meet the same sticky end as your parents one of these days, Harry Potter," he said softly. "They were meddlesome fools, too."

He hissed for Dobby to move so they could get out of here, knowing otherwise that he could not be held accountable for his actions. Then he heard a stunned gasp and he turned to see Dobby holding the stained sock that he had thrown aside. Freezing in dawning horror at Dobby's exclamations of freedom Lucius felt the bubbling cauldron of bitter disappointment erupt. How dare that boy tear away everything in his life! He lunged at Harry.

"You've lost me my servant boy!"

But Dobby shouted, "You shall not harm Harry Potter!"

The next thing Lucius knew was that there was a loud bang; painful impacts on the staircase then the resounding thwack of the cold stone floor. Face livid he leapt up, drawing out his wand. However, the elf held up a warning finger.

"You shall go now," he said fiercely. "You shall not touch Harry Potter. You shall go now."

Knowing when he was beaten and that further resistance would be futile he left in a swirl of robes, positively incensed. '_I shall ask my Lord for the pleasure of killing you – or at least torturing you before my love grants you final, eternal rest Potter.'_

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**A/N2:** I think it is obvious that in the third part I have used extracts from the second book, either directly or adapted to fit my own style. _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, British paperback, pp 248-249 (Chapter Eighteen – 'Dobby's Reward')._

Next Chapter: Voldemort returns and Draco guest stars.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: All the characters, creatures etc in the Harry Potter universe belong to J. K. Rowling. All original characters, plot etc belong to me. No money is being made.

A/N: Thoughts/conscience look like so: _'and'_. Not beta read so all mistakes are my own.

While I have tried to stick as close as possible to the events of the five books I have obviously wandered from them in places and by my assumptions. However, in this chapter and the next (the last!) events do detract from the two last books, especially from 'The Order of the Phoenix'.

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Chapter Four

_**Quidditch World Cup, 1994 **_

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Lucius was enjoying tormenting the Muggles who hung suspended in the air by the concentrated magic of the Death Eaters. The Death Eaters wove intricate patterns in the air with their wands, their movements mimicked by the Muggles. The atmosphere vibrated with the discharge of so much magic, actually condensing it out, so that the currents were ridden by all present.

All of a sudden the cries around them changed. The Aurors and the other wizards maintaining an offence against them faltered. Feeling prickles of unease form all over his body Lucius shifted his attention from the dangling Muggles to their enemies.

He followed their shocked – and on some – fearful gazes upwards. What he saw made him catch his breath.

Up among the glittering silver stars was pinned, in all its terrifying splendour, the symbol of the Dark Lord. Emerald jewels made up the skull with a snake for its protruding tongue. The Dark Mark lit up the night sky like a new constellation.

Fear gripped Lucius' heart, overriding his sense of excitement. A dozen thoughts flew through his head. Who had conjured this emblem of evil? Had his Master returned? Or was it only Lord Voldemort, his younger self forgotten? Was Thomas Riddle beyond reach?

This harsh uncertainty sank its terrible claws into his heart and mind, initiating the old adrenaline based 'fight or flight' response. In this case flight won. Lucius could not be certain who had returned or what was happening, therefore he chose for the moment the safe option and fled.

The Muggles, unattended, dropped to the ground, slowed only by the quick reflexes of the Aurors and the surrounding wizards. Their protectors stared after the rapidly retreating Death Eaters until they were swallowed up by the night.

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_**Almost a year later **_

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The vivid red tattoo on his arm _burned_.

The Death Eater had noticed its steady re-appearance over the past year, understanding the clarity to symbolise his Lord's return, but now it was time. He was being called, the pain summoning him from the disgraceful years he had spent idle so he could face his punishment.

Crystal shards lay on the floor, the facetted pieces reflecting the tension on the servant's face. Ignoring the spilt and broken remains of his glass of wine the man strode over to the hidden compartment, pressing the release that would reveal contents that had long lain dormant.

Reaching into the black yawning hole the man withdrew a mask and a dark cloak. Slowly, reverently, he pulled both items on ensuring he was properly hooded and masked – unidentifiable. For a moment, in the gleam of the magical fire, spells of protection and invisibility stood out on the black robes.

Then Lucius Malfoy Disapparated to see whether anything of Thomas Riddle had returned or if only Lord Voldemort had come back.

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The Death Eaters formed a broken circle, even though they knew many could not answer Lord Voldemort's summons. Lucius Malfoy studied his Master discreetly, anxiously awaiting his punishment, realising that for his betrayal he could expect nothing else.

He was privately shocked at his Master's appearance. What had that boy **done** to his love? Red eyes peered menacingly out to the world, there were slits for nostrils, and a head as white as a skull. Thomas had become one the snakes he so loved.

Lord Voldemort having finished with Wormtail moved to him, greeting him with a phrase he had heard not so long ago.

"Lucius, my slippery friend," the Dark Lord halted, smiling softly, his voice a mere whisper. Lucius shivered as he listened to his Master's words, Voldemort's accusation cutting off his feeble protest of always being alert, waiting for a _sign_. '_What a coward I have been.' _Shame and relief flowed off Lucius as his Master continued his dressing down with the other Death Eaters.

However, before Lord Voldemort did move on, he caught a sparkle in those ruby depths and felt his heart flutter. His Lord had returned to him!

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The events of the rest of the night had not been as nearly as pleasing. The escape of the dratted Harry Potter who had far too many lives – what was he? A cat? And the subsequent death of Barty Jr at the hands of the Dementors had ruined Thomas' re-birth. His son had not made matters any better by getting himself humbled by Potter's friends – some of them Muggle-borns, how could his son dishonour the Malfoy name in such a pitiful manner? '_When will my son learn sense?'_

At least not all was lost. The only thing salvaging the shambles of the long night and day had been his Lord's ploy to liberate their family members entrapped in the gloomy fortress of Azkaban, which reminded him. He had to acquaint Draco with the new order of things now that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was in power once again, to prevent any mistakes from occurring.

It did not occur to Lucius to inform his son of his status as Consort to the Dark Lord. He did not think it was something his son had to know, and if he did, he would find out soon enough.

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_**September, 1995, Three months later **_

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Azkaban had been emptied of Death Eaters. The success of the operation had made the Death Eaters fanatical and the public, (those of the public who believed Harry Potter anyway), were anxious. The Order of the Phoenix had been reformed and its members – many new and very young and inexperienced – sought to persuade the unbelieving of Voldemort's return.

However, the Dark Lord did not accommodate them in this mission, lying low until such a time his forces were powerful enough to engage the Order and destroy it completely. In that vein the Dark Lord knew he had to know the full Prophecy regarding Harry Potter and him, so a plan was put into action. It began with the dreams.

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Draco Malfoy scuffed the pavement irritably. When on earth would they actually leave for Hogwarts? At this rate he would miss the train and wouldn't the Weasel, Mudblood and Potter laugh! Just as he was about to lose all pretence of patience and decorum his father appeared, looking flustered.

Puzzled, Draco examined the flushed cheeks, swollen lips and mussed clothing. A grin slowly spread across his features. Affecting a lazy drawl he remarked, "Busy with mother father?"

His father seemed bewildered by the question and stared peculiarly at Draco.

"No. Why do you think that my son?"

It was Draco's turn to be confused as his father was acting very strangely.

"Your lips for starters Dad."

Touching reddened lips Lucius raised an eyebrow at his son.

"That doesn't explain why you would assume it was your mother son."

Astounded Draco gaped openly at his father.

"Who else could it be?" he asked in a strangled voice.

Comprehension dawned, followed swiftly by pure astonishment and a big helping of shock.

"You don't know?" he gasped.

"Know what?" exclaimed Draco exasperated.

"But, but, I thought you knew by now. Isn't it obvious?" Lucius said, marvelling over something he found both surprising and amusing.

"What is obvious?" cried Draco in annoyance.

His father hesitated, glancing at the wall clock. Lucius came to a rapid decision.

"There is no time now to elaborate. First Hogsmede weekend I'll meet you and explain everything," reassured Lucius gently. "Come on son, we must fly if we are to catch your ride!"

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Draco did not get the chance to discuss his father's odd behaviour with his cronies until much later in the year. The first Hogsmede weekend had been postponed indefinitely due to an epidemic that had hit the village to prevent any of the students from falling ill.

Therefore, the young arrogant Malfoy spent his time frustrated and inundated with work. He took out his irritation with life on Potter and co, teasing them mercilessly about Voldemort's re-birth, especially Harry's part in bringing about the Dark Lord's imminent second reign.

The icing on the cake was Harry's expulsion from Quidditch and Weasley's pathetic attempts to stand in as goal defence. What a lark. All the time however, Draco was aware of the wary glances he received from the rest of his Housemates. Oh, not from all of them, only from a select few – namely the offspring of reactivated Death Eaters. It was almost as if they feared to speak of certain things in his presence in case he told. Told who exactly, about what precisely, Draco had absolutely no idea, but he was aware of their stares.

Before he could demand an explanation for the ridiculous behaviour he was subject to he had a confrontation with one extremely pissed off redhead.

"Don't you dare call me that you little ferret!" roared Ron Weasley, face beetroot red; steam practically curling from his ears.

Draco sneered.

"Why not _Weasel_, your family have to be weasels to survive, otherwise you would starve."

Ron snarled. Harry, though angry, realised they couldn't afford to be caught fighting - _Gryffindor_ could not afford to be caught fighting - and thereby losing more House points, so he attempted to calm his best friend down. Ron, however, shook him off.

"No, I've had enough of that runt swaggering about the place as if he owns it. Time he was taught a lesson."

Draco raised an eyebrow in perfect imitation of his father.

"Oh really? And who is going to teach me? You Weasley? I would like to see that!"

Too busy laughing in contempt Draco did not see his nemesis whip out his wand and dramatically point it at him reeling off a spell.

The next moment he was flying through the air, slamming painfully against the cold stone of the wall. Draco fought past the high-pitched ringing in his ears to surface hearing the next attack Ron was launching. The spell was one he remembered well.

"_Serpensortia!"_

Struggling to banish the stars in front of his eyes Draco cried for his wand, the thin piece of wood leaping into his outstretched hand. Instantly Draco brought his arm around in an arc to create a shield, which vanished the moment the snake touched the magic, bursting into flames.

Climbing agonisingly to his feet the blond hissed in injured prideand fury, spitting venom even when outnumbered.

"Is that all you are capable of Weasley? Not much Weasel."

Narrowed grey eyes met the brown slits of rage, which grew in hate.

"Oh, there's more ferret, and my family is infinitely better than yours."

Draco snorted in disbelief.

"Better Weasel? In what way? I wouldn't be surprised if you had to whore yourselves to keep a roof over your mangy heads."

A malicious smile stole over the freckled features, causing Draco discomfort. It was a hitherto unseen expression on the Weasel's face. So what did it mean? In honeyed tones Ron Weasley spoke.

"Oh, my family are not the whores Malfoy, far from it as you well know."

"What do you mean?"

A delighted expression appeared as the tone turned incredulous.

"You don't _know?_"

Draco gritted his teeth. "Know _what?_"

Ron grinned. He looked like the cat that had gotten the cream. His voice dropped to a whisper, laden with glee and self-satisfaction. Leaning forward Draco and Harry sidled closer to hear.

"It is well known Draco," immediately Draco tensed. They were on first names? This was bad, "that your father is more than a simple Death Eater."

Draco hissed coldly, "Of course he is you moron. Do you think my father would just be an ordinary Death Eater? We all know he is in the inner circle."

Ron smirked. "Not quite what I mean Draco. Your father," he paused for effect, "was – and is I imagine – the Consort to the Dark Lord. In other words, he spreads his legs whenever the Dark Lord demands his 'personal' attention. Now whose family is the whore? And a willing one at that?"

Draco froze. Shock rooted him to the ground before denial hit. Stumbling backwards at the force of the revelation Draco trembled in defiance.

"You're lying! My father would never…he wouldn't…" he trailed off as all the baffling events fell into place. _'Daddy's swollen lips and mussed clothes. Daddy did say it wasn't mummy. Oh, god. It can't be the Dark Lord. No! How? Why?' _

Swallowing hard Draco clenched his fits, determined to learn the truth right _now_.

Ron dissolved into bales of vengeful laughter as the sneering git ran away, shaking his head in horror and shame.

Draco skidded around the corner racing away from the deserted corridor, Ron's shrieks of delight echoing hollowly in his eardrums.

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"Didn't you knowDraco?" exclaimed Pansy in amazement. "Your father is Consort to the Dark Lord, even if at the moment he hasn't taken up the full duties of his position. However, when he does, no one wants to be on his black list as he can be pretty unforgiving, not to mention ruthless. Haven't you wondered why your mother shies away from him? She and those who have any sense will not dare our Lord's anger. We do not wish to die!"

Draco felt the bile rise in his throat as the revolting truth was unveiled. '_So this is not a lie. The Weasel was telling the truth. I wish this were a nightmare. I wish I were dead. My father is a whore?'_

Pansy was watching him carefully; her next words made Draco wonder whether she could actually read his mind.

"It is a great honour Draco. With your father as Consort you need not fear the Dark Lord's wrath, as we must. This has brought you influence."

She gazed into his grey eyes underscoring the message she was trying to give. When Draco grinned she knew she had succeeded. Sweeping Pansy into his arms Draco smirked.

"And if a Malfoy can't take advantage of a situation then what can we do?"

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	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: All the characters, creatures etc in the Harry Potter universe belong to J. K. Rowling. All original characters, plot etc belong to me. No money is being made.

Warnings: Angst and Dark Magic. Slash. Spoliers for all books (i.e. one to five).

A/N: Thoughts/conscience look like so: _'and'_. Not beta read so all mistakes are my own. Thank you for every review received.

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Chapter Five

"_It was foolish to come here tonight, Tom," said Dumbledore calmly. _**Quote from the duel between Voldemort and Dumbledore at the Ministry for Magic.**

_**After the Duel **_

****

Thomas Riddle, now known as Voldemort, rifled through his possessions. His wrath was immense. He had once again lost to Dumbledore, and in the process lost Lucius to the Dementors. Lucius' fragile emotional state would easily be manipulated in Azkaban.

'_Must he hound me to the end of my days? Can I not escape? Is there no way to stop him and that pesky boy?'_

However, what irked him most was the fear he held for the man. Voldemort knew that the duel had been close – too close. And what exactly did the old man mean by there being worse fates than death? Death was the leveller of all. Death took you to what lay beyond life's veil and that indeed was terrifying.

His thoughts wandered and he circled back to Lucius, feeling the fury peak again. He had lost Lucius how many times now? Three? More? Was this the end? The final loss? The sudden spike of fear that this horrific realisation brought gave him pause. He considered the emotion and from where it had come and the reason for its arrival.

To lose Lucius permanently, either to his mind or to death was a chilling prospect and not one he could bear. Lucius had slipped under his radar and become more than a mere Consort in who he sought pleasure. _Indeed, your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death has always been your greatest weakness. _Dumbledore's words came back to haunt the tall man and he felt sick.

'_Maybe now I comprehend Dumbledore. Maybe now I am not so weak because I realise that there are indeed things much worse than death. And almost all of them hold a future without Lucius or a future with a badly destroyed Lucius. Is this love?' _

And something else occurred to the dark wizard. Dumbledore and Lucius were the only people who hailed him by his old name. Thomas Marvolo Riddle. Tom. Did they each see the same things in him as the other? '_Perhaps there is more of Thomas Riddle left in me than even I realised.'_

Mind awhirl Voldemort turned to rummage through the possessions that he had given to Lucius before his unplanned departure for a number of years – thirteen years to be precise.

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Draco nervously paced his small room, anxious for his father, and for his mother who worried greatly. He paused when he heard low excited voices outside his door and ever curious he crept to the door, pressing his ear to the wood so he could overhear what was being said.

"Our Master summons us." Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Do you know why?" It was Mcnair.

"To storm Azkaban I should think," commented Bellatrix. Draco shuddered. Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black – his mother's sister – always freaked him out. The woman was _scary_, and quite frankly, more insane than Potter and his friends.

"Huh?"

"I should have thought it was quite obvious Walden. Lucius is in Azkaban and Lucius is the Consort to the Dark Lord, our Master." Draco could see in his mind's eye his aunt rolling her eyes at Walden's stupidity.

"Oh. But why all this secrecy? And those ingredients? What are they needed for?"

Before Bella could reply another voice, one as cold and dead as the grave intervened.

"For the Dark Lord to become more powerful than he is now, so powerful that even Dumbledore will fear him."

A whisper went around the assembled Death Eaters, while Draco's heart thundered.

"Now go to our Lord and serve him. I have business I must tend to urgently."

Draco heard the Death Eaters walk away and slid to the floor his heart in his mouth. Fear was a potent elixir that flowed through his body as his mind reeled with thoughts. The Dark Lord would grow more powerful? How? And what did the Dark Lord's second in command mean precisely by his words: 'I have business I must tend to urgently.' What business was so urgent it couldn't wait until morning?

A knock on the door sounded to Draco's ears as the harbingers of doom.

"Open up Draco!" called the icy voice. "It is Valdis. We must talk."

Draco's terror heightened.

"Okay," his voice came out weak and broken, laced with dread.

Fumbling with the lock he finally managed to prise the door open to emit Valids, Second in command to Voldemort.

The dangerous man strolled into his quarters with a reassuring smile.

"Why so frightened Draco? I mean you no harm."

"Wh..why should I think you mean me harm?" stammered Draco.

A mocking laugh met his question.

"Because I know that you were listening to the conversation outside little dragon," the tone fell to a whisper, "you cannot fool a werewolf." A flicker of recognition flashed for a brief second in grey eyes.

"Yes, that is one of the pet names our Master uses for your father and is the reason why Lucius called you after the dragon – a living memory of his Master and love. Now come," a hand was stretched out invitingly, "tonight is not the time to be alone or to be wandering. Too many things are going on for it to be safe. Come Draco, you do not want to be here when all hell breaks loose."

Pale faced with fright Draco clasped the hand and blindly followed.

"What about my mum?" he asked.

A wolfish look played on the grim features. It was a rather hungry expression.

"She is in a… safe place, never you fear."

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As Voldemort waited he fingered the torn diary with an amused smile playing on his inhuman features.

'_Do they truly believe that my diary was the only fallback plans that I would put in place? My diary was not the only method by which I could return to full power – even stronger than I am now. I am diminished but for not much longer. I shall reclaim my younger self and then… Then _**no one**_ will be able to stop me. Not even Albus Dumbledore.'_

A skeletal hand reached for an object and Voldemort smiled. An evil light seemed to flare in the scarlet orbs as he contemplated his imminent re-birth.

'_Soon my children in Azkaban will be free and for the last time that fortress of pain and death shall be sprung open. The end of Azkaban is nigh. And those who have incarcerated my love shall pay in blood and torment.'_

His followers had arrived. It was time to begin the ritual.

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Even if there had been windows natural light did not penetrate this far down. Guttering candles provided the only illumination and an eerie greenish glow, which seemed to emanate from the cold, stonewalls.

Water dripped. Slime clung to the walls and floors. The shadows held their own secrets. Noises in the darkness were best ignored unless one truly wished to go insane with terror at the very imagination of what dwelt in this…place. Holding cells formed forbidding ranks on either side of the hallway.

A woman lay curled up in one such cell. Trembling with exhaustion and apprehension at what was to come she struggled to erase the images of last night. The howling of the werewolves did not faze her; only the howl of one werewolf could send complete, utter dread down her spine, freezing her blood. And he was not here now thank goodness.

Who was this woman?

A shaft of orange light falls on her head and there is a glimpse of blonde locks before the light once more fails, mercifully hiding the rest of the dungeon in the shroud of darkness.

Narcissa Malfoy, arms wrapped around her drawn up legs, bent her head and wept.

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The Death Eaters stood back, stunned into silence at the sight before their eyes.

Throwing back his head, cold high laughter spilt forth, chilling all present. The laugh seemed to come from the very jaws of Hell. Thomas Riddle grinned. '_I'm back.'_

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Huddled against the tall, grim form Draco attempted to drown out the noises of the night, but was unsuccessful. He clung to the second in command like a swimmer to a life belt afraid of drowning.

He still heard the hellish laugh.

0-0-0-0

Scratching aimlessly at the dank grey walls of his prison cell, Lucius stared absently into the distance; his grey eyes merely hollows to a soul filled with nothing. His white face was devoid of emotion, unaware of the pitiful surroundings and distant screams of the other denizens of Azkaban.

He heard tinkling laughter; merry as bubbling brook in spring, in his head as he relived the few happy memories he had intact. His mind drifted further, remembering better times.

_**Sixteen Years Ago **_

****

Lucius Malfoy stood proudly beside his Lord and Master, satisfaction shining brightly from his eager face, as he listened intently to his Lord speaking to the few select Death Eaters who had been invited here due to their fanatical loyalty to the Dark Lord.

Bellatrix Lestrange's piercing gaze met his briefly before she wisely moved her attention elsewhere. Bellatrix, mused Lucius, was a very beautiful woman and someone who had followed him at Hogwarts – been part of his cohort and subsequently someone who he introduced to the Dark Lord.

'_Who would think that underneath such beauty could lay such cruelty? She is the embodiment of the old saying 'appearances can be deceiving'. And she doesn't like me for dallying with her sister while I am our Master's… whore I believe her words to my wife were. No worry, she is not a threat, if she were I would have dealt with her long ago and without my Master's help. Lucius smiled coldly. I am perfectly capable of surviving without my love having to sweep to my aid as everyone thinks.'_

Voldemort's next words brought Lucius' wandering thoughts sharply back to the clandestine meeting.

"Thanks to Lucius we now have the plans for the next Auror raid which would have severely wounded us if we had been unawares. We also know that two Aurors who have been a pain to me – and escaped my personal attention _three_ times–" Voldemort snarled at this humiliation, "will be present. I am not talking of the Potters, but of the Longbottoms. As I will be indisposed for that evening I am entrusting the task to two of my most loyal followers."

Excited faces stared up at Voldemort who smiled pleasantly. Turning to face his love he declared, "And who better to decide than the man who obtained this precious information?"

Lucius flushed with delight at the honour bestowed upon him by his Master and fighting the blush he turned a stern, assessing eye on the gathered Death Eaters. A sudden idea struck him as he stared into the cold hate filled eyes of Bellatrix.

'_Well Bella, I do believe that I can give you and your husband this honour.' _

Smiling innocently up at his lover Lucius titled his head and stated without any tangible malice to his words, "My Lord, Bella and her husband should be granted the privilege of teaching the Longbottoms a lesson. After all, they are your most loyal subjects and will not fail you in this task."

The Dark Lord furrowed his brow for a spilt second as he tried to figure out what his mysterious lover was up to exactly. He gave up for the moment.

"The task is yours Bella, do not fail me."

"We will not Master."

As Bella and the other Death Eaters bowed and left she cast a calculating look at Lucius trying to gauge his actions. Lucius simply kept his innocent act going which caused Bella a few seconds of discomfort as she fled the room.

'_Yes, run Bella. You do see now yes? I can be a nice man to know and befriend. But this is your last chance – snub me again and our Master will be losing his most fanatical supporter in an accident, and believe me Bella, that will be infinitely kinder than what would happen if my love found out about your actions towards me.'_

Strong arms wrapping around his waist and drawing him against the tall, lean body of his Lord distracted Lucius from his pensive musings. Hot breath tickled his ear.

"What are you up to my little demon?" purred the Dark Lord. "What game are you playing my love? What has Bella done to deserve your 'mercy' and 'favour', hmmm? Do tell me my little kitten."

Lucius gasped softly, turning his head so he could brush his lips over the cheek of his lover.

"Nothing my love. She has done naught to rile up my rage."

The luxurious warmth of his Master's body was suddenly absent. Angry, black orbs peered into his soul as his love's grip on his arms became painful.

"I warn you Lucius," he rasped, "if you are lying to me about Bella – and anyone else for the matter – then the punishments shall be severe. I will not stand harm coming to you or you lying to me about any danger you are in, is that understood?"

Fearfully the blond swallowed. Stuttering slightly he managed to dredge up a response.

"Y… yes my Lord. But please do not worry my Lord. The situation is under control. It is only the normal childish power games that we play. If matters get worse I _will_ tell you my Lord."

Voldemort studied him then relaxed as he saw the promise in the grey eyes he lusted – and loved in his own way, unbeknownst to him – for so much.

"Very well," he murmured. Then a wicked light sprang into his eyes and gathering Lucius up into his arms he deposited the startled blond on the table. Crowding the sprawled man he licked Lucius from chin to forehead.

"How many uses can you think of for a table Lucius?" he whispered.

"A few," came the dry croak.

A nefarious grin appeared.

"Then we better examine these uses minutely my dragon."

With that said Thomas Riddle proceeded to study the different methods a table could be used for with great vigour. Lucius moaned as kisses descended onto exposed flesh, hot and cold skin tingling, yearning for more. Much later the world moved for the two men and Lucius lay dazed under the still weakly thrusting body of his Lord, never thinking that this indescribable pleasure would end.

_**Present **_

****

Jarred back to the present Lucius felt tears form, crystal jewels falling from pained eyes. Where had it all gone wrong?

'_I am going mad in here – the walls are no barrier between them and meOh my Lord why have you abandoned me so? What have I done to displease you? I know I am weak, but the Dementors are so strong, so very terrifying. They are not even evil per se, for to be evil implies knowledge of good and wrong and the grey areas in-between. _

'_No…they are simply being what they **are**. They are not evil for they cannot understand such emotions or choices; it is their nature to feed on our joyful memories leaving only guilt and dark reminders, therefore I cannot hate them. How can you hate that which only does what it must to survive? _

'_But my Lord when did you stop loving me? Is there even any Thomas left? Or is this my punishment for deserting you all these years? I thought you understood! Thomas did…does. Have thee found another? Please no! I cannot bear such a loss. Is my love repugnant to you? A weakness? At least allow me to serve you if not love you, anything is better than losing you again. _

'_Oh, how pathetic my pleas are! It is true what thee say, to love **is **a weakness, yet I am glad to have loved and love. I begin to comprehend the Order and Dumbledore's words on love being their strength and guiding force. If you love someone and they love you back what can stop you? A paradox indeed, love reveals weakness, brings pain, yet it also brings hope and joy, strength in yourself and each other. My Lord where are you?'_

In silence Lucius bowed his head, his sobs filling the frosty air of Azkaban.

Ignorant of the cries and sounds of magical battle Lucius did not move until two fingers forced his chin up. Through a haze he saw his Master as he once was. Almost. Trembling, a shaking hand reached outto trace the rims of eyes and gently brush eyelids. Resting questing fingers on a damp cheek Lucius whispered, "They are rubies not obsidian, but beautiful all the same. Are you a dream?" Then the fact that the flesh under his fingertips was wet registered.

"My Lord?"

"Nothing Lucius," whispered the Dark Lord.

Voldemort carefully studied the pale silver-blond man in front of him. Azkaban had not been good for him, nor had his absence of years past. Most cruel, however, was that little fiasco with the diary – how could he have been so callous and selfish? Their game had almost destroyed this delicate man. Well no longer, he would heal Lucius now that they had time.

"My Lord," came the urgent high voice of his guard.

"Yes?"

"We must leave now!"

It was time. Leaning forward Voldemort addressed the stunned man.

"I am no dream or hallucination. I am Thomas Marvolo Riddle and I am back to re-claim our future together." Standing he drew the blond up. "This is only the beginning Lucius." Raising his voice, "My Lucius: Consort and love of the Dark Lord."

Smiling a triumphant smile Thomas walked out with his Consort to wrest the future to them.

_Epilogue_

_**Narcissa's death followed, releasing Luc**__**ius from the bondage of marriage. Harry Potter – hope and saviour for all – fell in battle against Voldemort – no, against Thomas Riddle. Dumbldore also perished at the hands of our enemies and many more deaths followed on a blizzard of blood, gore and dread. **_

****

_**The Ministry was broken asunder and Draco Malfoy presides over one of the prisons for the 'traitors'.**_

****

_**Panic gripped the country. Wizarding society froze. As darkness ruled and fountains of blood flowed in majesty it seemed that God had abandoned Britain. Is there hope? Deliverance from the Dark Prince and his Consort? Or are we all doomed? **_

****

_**Signed, **_

****

_Bill Weasley_** _– leader of the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix in exile._**

****

The End

Read the sequel: _'The Dark Prince and Consort'_ if you wish to know what happens to the Wixarding World!


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